have read for the past few hours until my eyes are exhausted. a boy's own story by edmund white. I read it years ago and remembered how much I loved it, so I picked up a copy at b&n tonight. it's such an amazing novel. all I want to do right now is sit and write prose of my own, but my brain feels like a...it's as if I...I'm just too wrung out. see? dammit, can't even come up with a decent metaphor.

the hotel yorbans are kicking around the idea of hosting the year's final wqfs party in a couple of weekends. that would rule; all year we've talked about having parties and have been too sorry to get one together. it'd be nice to go out with a bang. I wonder what my social life will hold once I graduate. I don't want to be one of those alums who hangs out on campus every freakin weekend; I'd like to think that I can rustle up some other things to do. not that I'm a snob about it--you can bet I'll be tromping these same brick paths next year if I hear of something big cooking.

speaking of parties, josh is all about some kookiness this weekend, and I'm right there with him. a sizable contingency of us are up for a serendipity redux. although I'm promising myself that I'll stay relatively well behaved--I can't even walk across campus anymore without bumping into someone that I've at least made out with while smashed. seriously, that's not an exaggeration. I don't really want to come any closer to crossing that line between "sexual opportunist" and "damn dirty ho," and my left big toe is nudging it.

anyway, even damn dirty hoes need their sleep.